


It snows in Hell

by NotSoDamned



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Have I mentioned Angst?, Loads of Angst, M/M, Multi, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 13:32:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18499993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotSoDamned/pseuds/NotSoDamned
Summary: "We should be four sitting around this table."





	1. Let it go

He refused to let go off Alexander’s sleeve, and the more tightly he held the little piece of fabric between his fingers, the more enraged the young Caribbean was getting.

« Let go off me! » shouted the fulminating man, turning around to look at his friend, voice raw because of his sore throat. « You know I need the money, John! For fuck’s sake… Just leave me alone. » The freckled man did not answer, only looking at his roommate with a silent plea in his eyes.

The moment lasted longer than usual, and the conflict was far from new. However, they both knew how it would end: Alexander was right, he needed the money. No matter how bad John wanted to financially help him, he could not provide for both of their lives.

« Come on John, you know I will go anyway. There is no need for making this more painful than it already is. My client is waiting for me. » he said softly this time, freeing his wrist with a smooth gesture. « See you tonight maybe. » and John had no other option than letting him go helplessly, praying for him not to get hurt, even if he knew he would. Even if he knew that there would be no replacing the things the young graduate was going to lose this night under the unholy touch of men and women he had never even heard of.

It did not matter how hard he tried to stop thinking about it, the words kept playing in his head.

 

_Alex is a prostitute. Alex sells his body to live and pay his studies. Alex gets hurt._

 

_I cannot help Alex._

 

He looked down, sensing his curly hair brush against his wet cheeks. The thought of it was not the worst part. The worst part was the evidence of it.

The hickeys. The cut lips. The black eyes. The scars.

 

_They are too rough. Too rough for Alex. Alex gets hurt._

 

_I still cannot help Alex._

 

Even when he got his bag done, putting in some money, lube, condoms, his phone, headphones, and a snack, he still kept thinking about it. Because it was true. Because it was obsessing him.

 

_Because I still won’t be able to help Alex._

 

He got out of the room, closing it behind him carefully, and making sure to erase totally the usual graffitis on the front door before he left.

The words « slut » and « daddy’s whore » took almost twenty minutes to wash away, the student’s hands shivering as they were growing more and more desperate to make Alex’s return a bit less difficult than it already was under the rare yet existing insults and judging glances.

He more or less succeeded to do it, and finally got to the bar, walking faster than usual, eager to escape the campus and its suffocating intimacy.

When he walked in, Hercules and Aaron were already waiting for him in a corner, avoiding each other’s looks and trying to do their best to keep the situation as less awkward as it could be.

« Hey. » John said, trying to sound as happy to see his friends as he could. The two men quickly turned around, both relieved to finally be joined by someone they were close to.

Not that any of them was shy, but they both did not really get along. Aaron was always way too sensible and suspicious to match Hercules’s insouciant and boisterous personality.

« Yo John! Where’s Alex? » The heart of the freckled man skipped a bit as he heard the question, and he mumbled « Still at the dorms, he has work to do for the politics lessons. » Both of his friends spotted the lie, but none of them dared asking further questions seeing the young man’s dark expression.

« Oh yeah, I see. Have a sit, I’ll get you a drink. » said Hercules with a smile, agitating his hands nervously around his phone, lying on the table next to two emptied bottles of Jack.

« And where is Laf’? » Asked John, just noticing the frenchman’s absence.

« I don’t know. He told me he was out to see a friend. » The tall man answered hesitantly, looking at John then at the waitress with big sad eyes. « Two pints of Saint Adams Ma’am. » he ordered before continuing briefly. « I know he’s not telling me the whole truth, but what can I do? I cannot force anyone into honesty, can I? » He spoke eyes screwed into John’s regretful ones, keeping the time to make a pause between any of his words, and clearly reproaching his friend’s previous blatant lie about Alex’s occupations.

There was an awkward silence between the three men, broken only when Aaron cleared his throat and tried to move on to another subject. While he was talking, John took the time to consider his appearance. The guy was quite tall, less than hercules still, and thin despite his obviously developed muscles hidden by a full buttoned shirt. The bald man was wearing gold glasses, a bit old-fashioned but fitting his chocolate-colored skin and his smart deep blue outfit. He looked exhausted, but still was sitting absolutely straight and talked clearly and fast as if he was ready to spend the whole night here if needed.

On the other hand, Hercules was sunk into his chair, legs spread and his teeth greeted. He was obviously concerned about his french roommate, always fidgeting with his phone, awaiting for a reassuring text. His leather jacket was hiding an inscription on his bright yellow t-shirt, and his matching yellow bandana was starting to untie after a whole day of moving from classes to classes and teasing from his friends who would eventually reach for it and try to take it off his head.

The detailing look of John continued his way across the two men’s bodies and was finally caught by a shining jewel hanging around Aaron’s neck: a crucifix. Without knowing why, he began to have a feeling of unease next to the other man, and raised his voice, interrupting the polite discussion about politics the two men were having.

« You still wear this thing, this is a bit weird these days you know. Is it just to show how fucking better and more pious than everyone else you are? » he aggressively told, reaching for his glass, and beginning to drink to try to calm himself down. The offended interlocutor raised a brow at him, looking down at his necklace and then at his friend back before hiding the little silver pendant under his shirt.

« I am sorry, I had forgotten you were such a pain in the ass when coming to religion. My apologies. » he told the last words with irony, letting them float in the air, and letting once again silence stretch out. « Well, mister Washington is waiting for me to help him with the journal. I gotta go. See you guys. » He told with a sigh before standing up and making his way out.

John and hercules, let alone, finally looked at each other with a freer look, daring to order six other glasses at once.

« So, where is Alex? I’d understand if you don’t wanna talk about it, but if you don’t mind I would like to know where he spends his nights. I always see him coming back at 8am, just before the classes. Laf’ is getting super worried too. »

« It’s nothing really, I’d rather having him talking to you about it. It’s not my role. » John adverted his gaze and let it drown into the golden liquid in his half-emptied glass. His friend simply nodded, thoughtful, and the two finished their drinks in silence, not minding speaking about their friends’s states, tormenting them.

They needed silence, even though they both painfully new there was a terrible truth echoing behind it.

_We should be four sitting around this table._

 

 

_………_

 

 

Thomas was laying in his bed, awaiting. He kept fidgeting with the purple sheets, trying to stay calm.

 

_Breathe. It’s all right. Breathe. It’s all right._

 

But it was not all right. He knew perfectly well that nothing would ever be all right.

Was it a painful truth? Not even anymore, but it was still harrowing.

 

_James is not here anymore._

 

_Breathe. It’s all right._

 

_I won’t ever get James back._

 

_Breathe._

 

_It is fucking all right._

 

And yes he could try to get better instead of sinking into his sorrow and get lost, again and again. But he just needed to complain.

The door opened, interrupting his thoughts and bringing him to reality. He quickly straightened his back and got up, looking at the beautiful man entering the room. He quickly recognized the pinkish high heels and the caramel skin of the tall frenchman and smiled brightly. This guy was addictive, really.

« Thomas, hun, how are you? » cooed the new arrivant while unzipping his gold jacket, uncovering an almost naked and tattooed torso barely hidden by a fishnet top. « It’ll be a bit more expensive tonight, if you don’t mind, because the holidays are coming and I’ll have my fun in the bars and a- »

Thomas quickly silenced him with a passionate kiss, exploring his mouth with his tongue and daring to put an impatient hand under his top, ripping it appart and scratching softly the delicate skin in the process. The two men parted after a few seconds, already panting, Lafayette stuck between the wall and his regular client.

« I’ll give you anything you want, I told you, the price is not a problem for me. » told the taller man with a grin, beginning to kiss and lick a sensible spot on his neck.

« Yeah I know mon ami, but you are always so generous that it sometimes feels like I’m taking advantage of your kindness. » said the young prostitute with a chuckle, before continuing a bit more seriously. « What do you want tonight? Are we going out maybe? Or staying here? »

« We stay here tonight, and we’ll have company, right? » Lafayette pushed him a few inches away from him, looking a bit offended.

« Don’t I satisfy you, hun? » he said pouting, looking at the taller man reproachingly. Thomas stared at him a few seconds before bursting out laughing, getting a surprised and misunderstanding look from the other.

« Of course you do! You have always did! But I found another beautiful man in another escort company and I would love to have you both tonight. You will like him, I swear… » He pleaded, looking at Lafayette with a lustful look. « It’s a young Caribbean, the same age as you, long beautiful hair, mesmerizing deep brown eyes… » He stopped his caresses as he sensed the immigrant freeze under his touch.

« What is his name? » the young man now looked frightened, trying his best not to sound panicked, but failing miserably.

« Um, Alexander Hamilton if I remember well, I don’t know if it’s a pseudonym or… Laf’, are you alright? » Thomas asked the last question hesitantly, each words laced with anxiety as he saw the prostitute’s face going paler and paler as the seconds passed.

« Yeah, I… I know him… that can’t be… » As he was trying to put words on his stupor, they both heard three energetic knocks at the door. Thomas carefully removed his hands from Lafayette’s hips and went to open, eyes screwed on the still shocked man to make sure he wouldn’t faint and fall.

A young man in a green crop top and dark leather pants entered the room, looking at his new client with curiosity. His wrists were covered with mementos and his ponytail was probably voluntarily messy. The Caribbean took a few minutes to look carefully at Thomas, apparently approving what he was seeing, and then turned around to look at the room.

He saw lafayette.

Lafayette saw him.

They didn’t dare making a move.

« Laf’? What the hell are you doing there?! » Almost shouted Alexander, taking a few steps back and only stopping when his back met his client’s bare torso.

« Well, I do not have to present you I guess… Would you please let me close the door? » He asked the flabbergasted man to make him step out of the way. « My name is Thomas, Thomas Jefferson. I remind you the terms of our accord: the amount I will have to pay is yours to define. It can go from fifty dollars to one thousand per hour during the first sessions, it can be more after our sixth encounter. I want a precise list of what you cannot take and what you particularly like, sexually speaking of course, and a safe word to be sure not to hurt you. Apart from that, when we are in this bedroom, I am in charge, so you must obey any of my requests and commands. If you don’t, it is up to you, but you will have to go and never come back. Is that fine with you, beauty? » Alexander’s big dark eyes went from Thomas to Lafayette hesitantly before he answered. The young man pounded the pros and the cons of the situation and finally chose after a few seconds, untying his hair and letting them frame wildly his face.

« Yes, master, it is perfectly fine with me. » Whispered the immigrant, approaching the lustful Virginian, seductively rolling his hips and licking his cherry colored lips. He finally joined him and reached immediately for his breeches, still looking him straight in the eyes. « We’re yours. »

And Thomas closed his eyes, letting the two men undress him, kiss him, do whatever they felt like doing on this first night spent together, because another sentence was resonating in the one pronounced by the small prostitute. More than a sentence, it was a memory, a delightful memory.

A painful memory.

 

_I am yours, Thomas, I love you. But I just can’t, why have you done this? How could you?_

 

_I am sorry James, I love you too. But it’s all right, we will make our way out. It’s all right._

 

_Breathe._

 

_It’s all right._

 

_………_

 

 

 

He entered the room quickly, looking at his watch hurriedly before swearing in a low voice. Really it wasn’t polite to ask him to do such a thing at so late an hour, especially with the amount they paid him.

Sincerely, he was Charles Lee after all, major of his promotion, he deserved better.

The man advanced in the dark, doing his best not to lose time but nevertheless tripping and falling on the floor because of the growing obscurity. His hands were painful already, and really he didn’t need this. He somehow achieved to make his way to the little drawer he was looking for and took out a little needle to unlock it.

He failed.

He tried harder.

The needle broke.

He now had half a needle planted in the finger.

He cried out and stifled his voice in his hand soon enough not to be caught, but pain was still making his hand tremble.

There was no way he could get what he wanted now. He swore again, bringing the injured member to his mouth and sucking the blood that was running from the cut, not daring to take the needle out of it for the moment. It wasn’t the first time it happened.

 

_I am such an idiot._

 

And he was right: yes, he was an idiot. He was an idiot because he had accepted this while he didn’t even lack cash. He was an idiot because he was taking the risk to ruin a brilliant prospect just because… because of what, again?

 

_Because I am a damn idiot, and I am bored._

 

Yeah, that’s not the choice any sensible man would have gone with. Luckily enough for his clients, Charles was far from whatever you could call sensible these days. Not after all of this.

He had lost way too many things to be precautions enough, or it would be better to say: to bother being precautions enough. For the moment, he had never been caught red handed.

For the moment.

The thefts, he always made them alone so he was sure everything was perfect. They were his pieces of art, his pride. He was good at what he was doing.

 

_Not good, no. I am the best at what I do._

 

Probably, but not today, today he wasn’t the best, because he was an idiot, he had been bored, he had got drunk. He was drunk. His finger was bleeding because of the blood speed in his veins, and his head was spinning. He couldn’t see straight, he had broken the needle, and now he had to get the fuck out of here before the director got back.

With the darkness, and the locked doors, plus the alarms he had to avoid again, it could take him thirty minutes to get out.

The young man sensed panic rise in him.

 

_I do not have thirty minutes._

 

_I am going to get caught._

 

_I am an idiot._

 

At least he could hope that no-one would get back in the office, that maybe tonight the director wouldn’t start working at such an insane hour. Because it was too early, because he couldn’t get caught.

Suddenly, the light turned on, he saw the blood, he saw the needle, he saw the drawer, he saw the room.

He saw everything.

 

_I am an idiot._

 

_I got caught._

 

Yes, indeed.

 

 

………

 

 

He was waiting, and it was late, way too late to be waiting all alone in his dorm. He stood in the middle of the room, sweating and breathing as softly as he could. Aaron stood still, straight, as he always did. He could stand like that during hours if he wanted to, there was no need to lay down for him, or to take some rest. He could stay like that, just to wait for his roommate. Just because he told he would be there when he would come back.

So yeah, he was waiting, and it was boring. He shouldn’t be standing here, waiting, he was brilliant, good at almost everything. He could be doing something useful.

His silver pendant was still around his neck, and made him shiver as the cold metal brushed his collar bone. He thought about John, who would always get mad whenever he saw this necklace, and about Alex, who would always tease him because of it, and make blasphemous jokes. The young immigrant probably thought it shocked him, but it really did not.

He did believe in a God, but he didn’t really care about him. He knew he was lost, his goal had never been to go to paradise or anything. He never went to church on sundays, because it wasn’t worth it. He was logical, he was rational. He didn’t need any God.

But he kept the jewel.

He kept the Jewel because his mother gave it to him. He kept this jewel because his mother was dead.

He kept these ugly glasses for the same reason. His father was dead too.

The student just couldn’t keep doing absolutely nothing, he felt urge to see Alex, to get one or two of his filthy jokes, to be able to loose himself in his dark eyes. So he just took his keys, put them in his pocket with his phone, and headed towards the young Caribbean’s room.

He knocked six times, slowly and regularly, not really hoping for anyone to open. It wasn’t that it was too early for the two roommates to be awake. John was probably looking for some one-night stand in some glaucous bar, and God knows in which sordid place his friend could be. But still he tried, because he missed Alex, because Alex had been his first friend ever, and that he hadn’t seen him out of a classroom for ages.

 

_I wonder if he would be happy to see me._

 

Probably not, and he knew it well, but what harm did it do to hope? To hope during just a few minutes? He’d be disappointed, for sure, but at least he’d be excited and happy for just a few seconds.

But it was useless to hope anyway, miracles don’t exist.

The door remained closed, and he still was outside of the room.

 

 

………

 

 

There was actually no way he could remain silent, he had to talk, but what for? The guy in front of him was listening, that was certain, but looking at him even a second was enough to make you understand that he didn’t understood a word of what James was saying.

Nice going, really, this date was useless, everything he tried to do to make it all better was useless.

Actually, living was useless now.

He took out his phone, checking the hour and seeing that it was too damn late not to wake Charles up when he would come home. Supposing that his roommate was asleep, that is.

« I gotta go, t’was nice to meet you. » He left cash on the table, grabbing a random amount of banknotes, and not really bothering saluting the old man sitting with him properly. After all, he had already paid for the dinner, and lost a whole evening here, that wasn’t really surprising if he finally wanted to stop wasting energy.

« I got a nice car, you know? And a loft, with a beautiful sight. You could come with me, have a drink…? » His date asked with a hopeful smile, already reaching in his pocket for what seemed to be the keys of a Lamborghini.

« Listen, I am not a whore. If you want to pay for sex and show everyone how rich you are with your kitch manners, I am sure that you’ll find what you seek on escorts websites, there are loads of them, and you won’t even have to dine with the sluts you will find. Now if you’ll excuse me. » He spoke sharply, looking with satisfaction how the smile of his interlocutor faded hearing his harsh words, and then went out of the restaurant quickly.

This was a deception, but he was used to it anyway, there was actually nothing that matched his expectations since Thomas.

_No, not Thomas. Thomas disappointed me. Thomas was wrong._

 

_I lost Thomas because he was wrong._

 

He kept thinking about the tall Virginian though, everyday, every time. There was no way he could stop seeing the two mocking eyes in his dreams, or taking someone for him in the streets. He saw him every time, and it was a nightmare.

It was a nightmare because his ex lover’s phone number was still registered in his phone and that he could call him. He wanted to call him. He needed to call him.

He should not call him.

He knew quite well where it would end, where it always ended with Thomas. It ended in the bathroom, crying, breaking mirrors, screaming and trying his best not to die out of pain.

 

_If I call, he is going to wreck me._

 

And that was the truth. That had always been the truth. He wanted to forget reality, to rise once again, holding the love of his life in his arms and praying for the dream not to end, reaching paradise, eventually.

But he couldn’t, not now. Now he could not take another heartbreak, there was no way he could possibly do it.

He wanted to, he wanted to so damn hard, but that would be stupid.

 

_And I am not stupid._

 

_I won’t call._

 

_I am not stupid._

 

He looked at the pale pitiful light of the screen in his hands, and left his fingers open the contact. He looked at the letters displayed, stopping his hand before it did something he would regret.

He needed it though, he needed it so bad.

So he instead clicked on the message app, opening it and sensing the goosebumps the action sent on his arms. He wrote quickly, not willing to think about what he was doing.

 

**3:56 To: DON’T PICK UP THE PHONE**

**Hey, I know it’s been a while, I needed to wish you a happy birthday anyway. Hope you’re doing good.**

 

He waited a few seconds before an answered arrived, and almost jumped because of the tension in his muscles.

 

**3:57 From: DON’T PICK UP THE PHONE**

**I am happy you finally texted. James I am sorry, you know I love you, we cannot stay away from each other just for a such a stupid thing. I need to see you, could we meet up? Please, leave me a chance.**

 

The student hesitated two entire minutes, almost shivering under the pressure. His heart was beating too fast, he knew it, he shouldn’t be in such a state for a man that made him suffer so much. But still he couldn’t resist. He needed to answer.

Something, anything.

 

_I am not an idiot, I am just going to tell him goodnight. I am not an idiot._

 

**3:59 From: DON’T PICK UP THE PHONE**

**James, please, I love you.**

 

**4:01 From: DON’T PICK UP THE PHONE**

**James, I need you in my life. I made a mistake, and we will probably never agree on this issue, but we can overcome this.**

 

**4:06 From: DON’T PICK UP THE PHONE**

**James, I know you read my texts.**

 

**4:21 From: DON’T PICK UP THE PHONE**

**Please, don’t ignore me again…**

 

He was going to crack, he knew it, it was too much. Without knowing it, he typed the text, and it was ready to be sent.

« I love you too. I am sorry to be so stubborn. You are right, it is not worth it » the little text said, but before he had the chance to send it, another notification appeared, and his heart broke when he read the messages he had just received.

 

**4:25 From: DON’T PICK UP THE PHONE**

**You know what, you are just an egoistic piece of shit. I’d do anything for you and you still cannot forgive me for something that happened years ago.**

 

**4:25 From: DON’T PICK UP THE PHONE**

**Go to hell.**

 

A single tear rolled down his cheek. He whipped it away immediately, straightening his back and suppressing the draft he had just written.

 

_I am not an idiot._


	2. Broken Pieces

« Can you pass a towel please? » asked the young Caribbean to his fellow prostitute with a grin, looking at the Fuchsia and golden walls of the luxurious bathroom admiringly. The frenchman reached for it and gave his friend what he asked for, detailing his body with curious eyes.

« So, for how long have you done this? I understand where you were spending all your nights since the beginning of the year now… » He said absently, continuing to put some blue glittering gloss on. « I must admit that you’re skillful, but I can’t help being a bit worried. I am not in a good position to ask you to stop, but still… » the young man stopped sensing the burning gaze of the other on his back. He knew Alexander was stubborn, and there was no way he could actually convince him, but he couldn’t help feeling worried. They were almost like brothers, and he deeply cared about his well-being. Plus he perfectly knew how psychologically and physically tiring was the job they were doing.

« Laf’, let’s not have this discussion, will you? Moreover I can’t stop now that I’ve found such a client, this guy is gold. » The young man said with a smirk, winking at Lafayette and adjusting his sweatshirt on his shoulders. His leather pants weren’t really matching the sportswear top, but he didn’t bother changing into something more appropriate. He loved keeping on him a reminder of what he was doing at night. A reminder that he was wanted, and beautiful. Sometimes it was a choker, or high heels, or even rings and other things his sweetest clients were offering him. This time it was just the leather piece of clothes.

« Yes, indeed. I’ve met him almost three years ago now. Don’t fall in love though, his kindness can be misinterpreted very quickly. Don’t forget that he only wants us for sex. » The frenchman whispered the last part, his eyes lost in the mirror, staring at his own reflection. He was a beautiful man, really. A bit feminine, but seductive and muscular. His heavy make up was perfectly done, and he looked like a top model in his expensive clothing. He was quite aware that he could have a decent life, and find true love maybe. He could finally have the courage to ask Hercules out. He could be sophisticated and stop letting any man touch him for payment.

He could.

He was rich, he was intelligent, he was wonderful.

He didn’t know it.

He wanted to see it, he wanted to love himself because he knew that minimum half of the globe was far worse than him. He knew he had everything he could dream of. Success was awaiting for him.

But he hated himself.

He hated himself because of that growing desire. Because of that feeling to be always needy. To always crave more, to never be satisfied, to need the insults, to need the blows, to need the domination. Rough. Sexual. Violent.

And now there was no way he could make his way out, because he was caught. He had crossed the line. There was no turning back. He was definitely spoiled.

 

_I am disgusting._

 

He kept thinking it, because in a way that was true. Because he was lost between the love he needed and the violence he craved.

And the therapy never helped. The most expensive psychologists paid by his all mighty parents were completely useless.

« You suffer from nymphomania, mister Lafayette, and severe dysphoria. We will heal you. » The words always were the same. But they were all wrong.

 

_I don’t want to be a girl. Why does everyone want me to be a girl?_

 

_I want to be a boy._

 

_I want to wear dresses and make up. I want to be beautiful._

 

_But I want to be a boy._

 

_Let me be a beautiful boy._

 

And concerning the nymphomania, well, they probably were right. He was filthy, needy, always daydreaming about things he shouldn’t.

Often locking himself in the bathroom in the middle of the day because he needed to masturbate…

He needed it. This desire was too powerful, it was overwhelming. He needed to be touched, to be possessed, to be taken.

He didn’t want it, he needed it.

 

_I am disgusting._

 

Tears began to well up in his eyes, and Alexander was now looking at him anxiously, patting his back lightly.

« Hey, it’s okay. What’s the matter, Laf’? You’re in security now, you’re okay… » he told while beginning to hug the crying man.

« I am sorry, I don’t know what’s going on, I am just so tired… » the frenchman answered, falling into his friends arms.

The door opened at this moment, and Thomas came in, dressed in a magenta three piece suit and holding two cups of coffee. He looked at the two men tenderly and got back into the bedroom, putting the two cups on a little coffee table.

« Come on, sit down and drink, you’ll be better after it. » the Virginian said gently, leading the prostitutes to a sofa in a corner of the room. Lafayette looked at him gratefully and sat down, reaching for the hot drink, still held tightly by his worried friend.

Alexander began to feel surrounded, as if the air itself began to be heavy and too thick to be breathed. He looked longly at his client and couldn’t help admiring his dominant posture. Everything about him was shiny, he was like a living sun ray. But his eyes…

 

_There is something broken in those eyes._

 

He kept staring at the tall man during a few minutes before he finally turned to him, surprised by the insisting gaze of the young man.

They kept looking into each other’s eyes, in peace. But the air was still unbreathable, and the claustrophobia of the young Caribbean was growing unbearable. His chest was going up and down faster now, and his eyes were locked with Thomas’s, unable to escape even though they desperately needed to.

Even catching a glimpse of the outside word by the window would have been enough to actually soothe the young man, but he couldn’t. Already, the sobs of his friend were getting softer and softer, until they finally vanished, and he was looking at them curiously now, trying to understand what was going on between the two men.

The three of them remained silent and immobile, looking for some answers.

Even if not a word was spoken up, the communion was almost perfect.

 

_Matching broken pieces._

 

 

………

 

 

« I have waited for you all night long Samuel, seriously where on earth were you? » Aaron kept asking the same question since his roommate was back, and was still obtaining no answer. He was angry, and felt a curious need to know where the other man was.

On the other hand, Samuel did not look really bothered by his companion’s attitude, and was calmly getting some dust off his glasses. His blond hair was perfectly groomed, tied into a high ponytail with a black knot, and his crucifix earrings were elegantly framing his face. The two men looked perfectly assorted, as two soulmates would be. Their couple was nevertheless on the verge of breakup.

« Listen, Aaron, I don’t have to tell you anything, right? I am not your son nor your husband, and I would appreciate you not to try to patronize me anymore. » Aaron looked at his boyfriend, eyes scanning his face to try to find any hint of guilt or betrayal on it, but Samuel was good at hiding his emotions, and detailing his expression was utterly useless.

« I am your boyfriend though. I think I have the right to know where you keep spending your nights. You have barely touched me during this whole month. » The other man looked skeptically at him, showing this once some pain in his eyes.

« Listen, Aaron, hun, you know I love you. I am just a bit busy those days… » tried the student, putting his glasses back and taking a few steps towards his angry lover.

« But busy doing what, Samuel! I am worried, why are you always so secret and distant? » His frustration was taking over, and he knew he had to calm down very quickly before he did something stupid.

He wanted to do this thing though. Breaking up was the best option for both of them. They needed space, they needed time. Plus Charles was getting on Aaron’s nerves, always asking him to officialize their relationship. He knew he was the one cheating, and that in the end he was more to blame than Samuel, still he hated the other student for neglecting him so openly.

« Okay, you want to know the truth? I’ve been seeing someone else. You’re happy now? Fine. And do not try to blame me for doing it because I know that you date Charles since our arrival here. Bye. » The now crying man took the coat he had barely put down back in his arms and went out hurriedly, slamming the door after him, and leaving his lover thoughtful and sad.

Not that he was even a bit surprised, he knew that would end up happening, he knew he deserved it. But he couldn’t really tell if he was relieved to finally be free or if he had done the biggest mistake of his life by letting him go.

He used to love Samuel, but now? Now he did not know. What he was sure of was that he was not in love with Charles though, and that now he had to get rid of him too. Soon.

He had someone else in his mind, he always thought about someone else.

 

_Alexander…_

 

That’s right, yes. The noisy annoying brat by the name of Alexander Hamilton. His oldest friend. His first love.

He never had the courage to tell him though. He was too reasonable for this to happen, too sensible to open up. Moreover, how could he really hope for anything to happen between them? They were complete opposites.

Alexander was passionate.

_I am rational._

 

Alexander was impulsive.

 

_I am prudent._

 

Alexander was popular.

 

_I am all alone._

 

_Always._

 

_All alone._

 

And he wished and prayed for a miracle to occur, for the Caribbean to come and see him, some day, and ask him out, or confess a burning passion.

But miracles never occur.

 

_And I am still all alone._

 

 

………

 

 

There were a million things going on in his head at same time, and he felt like dying, really. He was sad, angry, regretful… and deeply in love.

He had lied, just a few minutes ago. How could Samuel ever cheat on his wonderful, admirable, strong Aaron? That was not possible, he had never even considered doing it. Even when he learned about him and Lee, even when he saw how his lover was looking at Alexander…

He and Aaron were made to be together, he knew it. They matched perfectly, from their appearances to the way their minds functioned. They were perfect together.

Absolutely perfect.

And now it ended like that? On a lie? Four years of love finishing in a hurry, with nothing but anger and sadness?

That was not the way he wanted it to be. He wanted to be relieved, knowing that he could now move on, but he felt nothing but pain, love, and an urgent need to go back into the room he just left and beg his boyfriend to take him back.

The thing is, he could not. He had no time. He had spent the whole night dealing the drugs he hid in his pocket and now he had to go back to work, because the studies weren’t free, and that now he had to find another room in the campus.

A hand grabbed his shoulder, and he turned back. He immediately regretted his decision and took a few steps away from the man who standing in from him.

« I am happy to see you, Seabury… How is everything doing, um? Got my cash? » Told George, grinning devilishly at the poor scared student.

« Y-yeah Mister King… I got it, but not right there. » The smile on the other’s face vanished and approached Samuel slowly, looking at him with threatening deep blue eyes.

« I want it tonight, understood? You know where to find me. Unless you are stupid enough to want to get punished…? » the student quickly shook his head, not daring articulating a single word. His eyes screwed on the floor and his hands fidgeting with the little powder packets in his pocket.

George smiled at him again, passing a tender hand in his hair quickly before going out of the building, humming a lullaby. The young man finally fell on the floor, his muscles all relaxing at once.

 

_I am in deep shit…_

 

 

………

 

 

**9:34 To: Laf’ <3**

**Heeey, I was wondering where you were. It’s saturday and we’re supposed to spend the morning together.**

 

 **10:04 To:** **Laf’ <3**

**It’s Herc again, are you okay? I am starting to worry, you never come back past 10am…**

 

 **10:06 To:** **Laf’ <3**

**Could you just write to tell me everything is alright? Please?**

 

Hercules finally gave up, shoving his phone back in his pocket. His hangover made his head spin lightly when he got up, but there was nothing to worry about.

He had no memory of last night.

He was in his dorm though, so everything was probably all right. He went to the bathroom, quickly placing his 10cm plugs in his stretched ears and disinfecting his latest artistic scar. This shit was painful, but he liked it. He had always seen bodies like pieces of art just awaiting to be customized and modified. He wanted to tattoo after university, or scarify… He didn’t know yet.

 

_Anything allowing me to turn pain into beauty._

 

That was a twisted wish, he knew it. That would probably seem creepy to most people.

Actually, yes, that was creepy to most people. They were all afraid of that pierced giant, with his bright toothy smile and his insistent detailing looks. He didn’t watch body with perverse intentions, his eyes were purely professional, and were far from being charged with any desire. Except…

 

_Except when I look at Lafayette._

 

_I love Lafayette._

 

And he knew pretty well how bad the frenchman felt about his body, how disgusting he found himself. No matter ho many times he would tell him that he was beautiful, or modify his friend’s body to make him love it a bit more, there was nothing he could do to really make him realize that he was wonderful, stunning, breathtaking…

He was aware that there was a way he could do it though. He could touch his skin, engrave his touch in every inch of it. Kiss him, love him…

 

_He want to be taken._

 

_I want to take him._

 

But there was a problem, because Lafayette didn’t want to be taken the way hercules wanted it. He wanted violence, roughness… nothing you could call tender or loving.

And Hercules wanted to be all those things. He couldn’t hurt his favorite little frenchman. He couldn’t bear even the thought of it. So he was just stepping aside each time he finally had a chance to own his heart. And it was okay, as long as his love was all right, it was okay.

 

_Is he okay though? I don’t know anymore._

 

_Is he really better without me?_

 

_I don’t know anything…_

 

These were two questions he could not answer, and the more he was wondering, the more lost he was.

What if Laf’ only saw him as a friend? What if it would ruin everything between them both?

Their friendship was too precious to take that risk. As flirtatious as he had always been, the future tattoo artist didn’t even dare to make the slightest attempt of flirt towards his friend. He didn’t know what would be his reactions if he happened to do it… that was absolutely frightening.

So he kept stepping aside, and that hurt.

 

_For how long will I be able to stand out of the way?_

 

 

_………_

 

 

His throat hurt, a lot. Actually, he couldn’t speak properly because of it. The details of how exactly he got that sore throat, you could imagine them easily, but nobody would advise you to picture the scene.

It was not something any sane man would enjoy to witness.

Currently, Alexander was in the corridors, feeling a bit dizzy, the sleeves of his way too large sweatshirt hiding his hands and his hips as well as his whole chest. He was a handsome man, he knew it. But he nevertheless had to hide his body, maybe even excessively.

 

_During the day, that is._

 

His hands were lightly shaking under the thick and heavy fabric, and tiredness was taking the best out of him. Once again, this was something you could expect when a man hadn’t slept for five days already. And today was saturday night, so he was going for one more sleepless night.

 

_Yay!_

 

What could he say? He needed the money, and the solution had been found quite easily. He was handsome, he was skilled with his tongue, he was skilled with his hands.

_And that is funny enough that I’m not paid to use them to talk or write…_

 

_Ha._

 

_Ha._

 

_Haaaaa…_

 

_I’m so tired._

 

Yes, writing and talking… these were his two passions, indeed. He could be a great politicians, fight for great causes, defend the weak. But here he was, wasting his time and his skills for some perverts too lazy to actually find some company properly.

 

_Thomas is not a pervert._

 

Of course he was a pervert. He was a client, so he somehow was. But there was no need to face that fact for the moment, it was too enjoyable to just see the man in his shiny glory instead of facing the terrible fact that the guy was just another lustful weirdo who was too rich for his own good.

 

_If only I had all this cash… I would have done so much already._

 

He arrived to his dorm, seeing that its door was completely clean. He smiled slightly imagining the time his roommate must have taken to allow him to get a peaceful return.

 

_I shouldn’t accept client from the same university as me anymore… This is not prudent._

 

He entered slowly, not wanting to wake John up, but the room was empty. The shower was running in the bathroom, and nothing was to be seen in the tidied room except quite a few stacks of paper and a packet of cigs awaiting on his desk. He took one, lighting it up with a match and then smoked calmly, enjoying the feeling of smoke passing in his throat.

 

_I am an idiot, my throat is going to be even more painful now…_

 

It wasn’t as if it really meant anything to him, anyway. He was used to pain, and he was too tired to care.

The sound of running water stopped, and the door of the bathroom opened quickly, letting a naked John get out of it with a blank expression.

« Are you hurt? » he asked the prostitute without even giving him a quick glance.

« No. » he answered calmly, letting his eyes detail the other man delightfully.

 

_John… My dear friend._

 

« Fuck Alex, seriously you keep smoking indoors? I told you not to do it in our room thousand times! » John said sighing, finally according the Caribbean a disapproving gaze.

« Yeah, yeah, I know. But the smoking area is at the other side of the building and you know that Madison and Lee are always in the corridors at noon on saturdays… » Alex gave his roommate an apologetic look before he actually threw his cig away, still sitting on the desk, in the middle of different stacks of paper.

« Well I know quite well, but I had warned you, you should not let yourself be laid by another student of the university. You’re lucky enough Washington doesn’t know! He would’ve killed you if he did! You’re like a son to him… »

 

_My dear John, you worry too much._

 

_There is nothing to tell him._

 

_He knows._

 

_Oh yes, he knows…_

 

_And he is far from upset._

 

« I know, I’m sorry. » He looked down, not daring to reveal the shocking truth to his friend, who was already worried enough to learn that the one man who was supposed to care for Alex and protect him was in fact one of his more generous clients.

_But it’s okay. He is my client to help me, he knows I need the cash, and he knows I wouldn’t accept it without giving anything in return._

 

He was lying to himself, he knew it. If really the director wanted to help him, he would have found him a job at the library, or he would have made him do some cleaning for payment.

Anything but this.

Anything but this remunerated incest.

 

_I really see him as my dad._

 

_He isn’t though._

 

_I just have been stupid not to see that I have no dad, and that I won’t ever have one._

 

_Never._

 

_It’s my fault._

 

_It always was, it always is, it always will be._

 

Constant culpability, yes, that was his gasoline. He ran on it, he was animated by it. But instead of trying to redeem himself, he was worsening his case.

That was absurd.

That was a paradox.

That was him.

 

_I am me._

 

_I am lucky to be alive right now._

 

_That will be enough._

 

Will it?

As he was thinking deeply, he didn’t realize the tears flowing from his eyes. He was hurt, more than he wanted to admit it.

« Alexander… are you alright? » asked John, getting suddenly anxious looking at his devastated friend. There was no way everything was okay for him, he wouldn’t be crying otherwise. He was hiding something…

Alexander looked at his friend during a few seconds, tears still flowing from his eyes and a strange feeling of being overwhelmed by every thing that happened to him getting to his goats.

« I have so much work to do… » He said, his red eyes widening as he got out of the room.

 

_… and I am ruining out of time._

 

………

 

_Is there any justice?_

 

George kept wondering seeing this young man being thrown out of his office head first, stumbling because of alcohol, a finger drown in its own blood. The poor guy was barely able to make a sentence, which was probably the reason why he had just been caught as well as the reason why he would get no punishment for his intrusion.

He just pinched his nose, getting in, waiting for Aaron to come and give a hand for the journal, resting two tired elbows on the desk.

 

_There musn’t be any justice._

 

He finally concluded, pounding all the fair and unfair things that were happening around him, not even sure of what the word _justice_ meant those days, if it had any meaning at all still, that is.

He was thinking about the drunk thief going unpunished, the beautiful prostitute that would come and see him in the day, the young brilliant student that kept enduring sleepless nights to help him, getting no reward at all. All the things were mixed up, messy, disorganized.

He looked helplessly at a drawer, and opened it out of stress. Close; open; close; open; close; open; close; open; close; open. He kept doing the same action again and again as if the wooden container would wash all this mess in his head away, but of course it didn’t.

His eyes fell on stack of paper; he lazily reached for it, shoving it into the drawer as neatly as possible, then closing it once more. He was desperately trying to get over this feeling of anxiety that was taking possession of his whole chest, concentrating on ordaining his pencils, then peens, then documents; when there was nothing left anymore, he did it again.

Aaron soon entered the room, yawning, immediately noticing the principal at his desk, and sitting next to him.

« Hello sir, I got the draft. » he said tiredly, back straight and hands slightly trembling out of exhaustion. George simply noted, taking in hand the papers he was being handed, scanning rapidly the lines before pulling it on his desk.

« Good. » he simply said, not even granting the student an approving or grateful look, looking at him with cold professionalism. It wasn’t as if he appreciated the guy anyway. He had no savor, no personality. His will was as inexistent as any opposition he could ever display. He was like a blank paper waiting the be thorn apart.

George smiled at the idea, earning a questioning glare from the tired student, then sinking a bit more onto his chair, eyes still darting Aaron.

« So, tell me, when will Alexander be able to replace you? ». He finally asked, because in the end, that was the only thing he had to say or ask right now, and truly one of his main preoccupations. He was bored of that neat and straight guy and his evasive demeanor each time the line between professional and personal life were crossed. Boring, that’s it, that was truly all this guy achieved to be.

Aaron gave him a death glance before turning away, muffling a groan, looking down.

« I don’t know, he’s trying to find some time to give you, but with the exams approaching he is a bit overwhelmed. » he simply said, humiliated by the question in itself, fist clenched, knuckles white.

« Alright, you can go back to your dorm, that will be all for tonight. » Aaron got up, going out with a resinated look, not even saluting his superior. He didn’t dare saying he had passed three complete days writing this, that the effort he had put in it probably deserved at least an attentive reading and a « thank you ». He wasn’t going to beg for it, he just couldn’t suffer to be put down to that level of complete lack of self esteem and confidence. Aaron knew his work was as good, if not better, than Alexander’s; no matter what the ex-general and now principal of university George Washington kept telling. He could just wait for the good time to rise up.


End file.
